“Our style influence comes from our freedom – anything goes”: 5 stylists on streetwear, heritage and storytelling

As a global fashion capital, London has left its mark on everything from haute couture to punk silhouettes.

But you can’t overlook the impact of streetwear, once swept to the peripheries of the fashion world. From Trapstar and Corteiz in London to the regional expansion of Manchester’s Clints, it’s become a youth-driven proposition and commodity referenced by the likes of the late Virgil Abloh, A-COLD-WALL* founder Samuel Ross and many more. As ‘drop’ culture grows, street style still retains its roots as the clothing of choice at the raves and free parties of the 1980s and beyond. We speak to contemporary Black and mixed-race British stylists about how they deploy streetwear aesthetics in their work, reflect on the style’s evolution and consider what comes next.

What were some of your favourite early experiences with fashion and brands?

The baby blue America’s Cup Pradas. I must’ve been ten and went to Selfridges with my dad. I remember feeling on top of the world. I also used to have these D&G jeans with the logo all over them, and some Calvin Klein tees, too.

How do you think Black British culture has influenced street style?

The garage days – the 2000s. The whole logos, logos, logos thing came back in the mid-10s, and was predominantly brought in by Black British people. I find that being from London, and from a working-class background, it’s such a melting pot where everyone’s different and styles mix together.

What are the pivotal fashion moments for you?

The designers of brands like Dior, Tom Ford, Gucci, Marc Jacobs, Louis Vuitton. The Stephen Sprouse graffiti Louis Vuitton bags! For me, going back to being a kid, that graffiti bag is ingrained in my mind. I remember going, “Yo what is that?” I just loved it. I feel like those moments, like John Galliano at Dior, were actual fashion – the sets, the shows; it was thought-provoking. Even Tom Ford’s Gucci, the campaigns – even now you’ll look at them and they are sick. He’s even said that sex sells, but it’s done in such a good way. Now it’s those brands replicating each other again.

As a stylist and archivist, do you feel the discipline of fashion has changed over time?

It’s all to sell stuff. We’re obviously all on our phones now, so we’re up to date, we see these brands. Before, I assume it was better in a way – you followed a brand because you knew it and its craftsmanship. Designers had way more fun. Now there must be so many boxes to tick. There’s less freedom – I guess that does affect their craft.

As a Londoner, what do you think makes the city a hub for trailblazing brands?

London is so openly multicultural. It doesn’t always feel that way, but we do actually accept so many different cultures and elements from one another. We’re all learning from each other – there’s a need to feel included and people are building cults around brands. Within that, a culture is being created around fashion. In streetwear, you’ve got Corteiz, and that’s amazing because its founder Clint has built an entire brand around being authentically and unapologetically himself. That’s something Black people have had to do a lot over time to be accepted into spaces.

Speaking of street style, what stands out for you globally?

I really, really, really loved Virgil at Louis Vuitton. I think that was an amazing step for Black people to see someone in such a high position working so creatively and successfully. I do feel like I lean towards the American oversized streetwear style, too. I feel like [in the UK], ours can sometimes be limiting, whereas America feels more daring. Arex jackets, for example: everyone looks amazing when they put one on.

Jamaica has been so influential globally, too. Tell me about the influence the island has had on contemporary fashion.

I think because Jamaica represents freedom, in a sense; as a people, we’re so comfortable in that. People tap into that authenticity. When it comes to our influence, I think of short shorts or pattern shorts. You see a lot of it outside – that’s the fashion that people go for. We’re also not very prudish, so anything goes, whether that’s layering different textures or string vests. It’s just fun, and we’re playful.

As a stylist, who are some of the people or brands doing innovative work within the contemporary fashion space that inspire you?

Brands like A-COLD-WALL*. Martine Rose and Craig Green are doing interesting things with silhouettes. Rick Owens, in terms of creating new silhouettes. I think that people are willing to try new things. Before, men were mostly wearing t-shirts and jeans; now they’re open to having oversized tees and crop jackets with puffier shoulders. It’s becoming more accessible for the average person who wouldn’t usually do that. With those diamante belts men are wearing, leaning into more of a gothic vibe, people are thinking outside of the box with textures and fits and I’m an advocate of that.

What streetwear brands were you introduced to during your upbringing in Bristol?

Bristol has a really big skate culture. When I was between 16 and 18, I hung around a lot in that world. As far as brands go, I’d say Evisu for the denim, Dickies, and then things like Supreme. A Bathing Ape and Stüssy became reflective of my work over time – the baggy bottoms with the tight top. That’s how I dressed, and it was the silhouette I wanted.

I can definitely see some of those silhouettes in your work now, like with Micheal Ward.

Yeah, it was even things like Kickers, Clarks Wallabees. I’m still a massive collector of those. My dad’s always in shock that I’m now wearing things that he would wear to school. I love that there’s a huge Wallabee movement in Jamaica, too.

How has your heritage fed your approach to styling?

For me, it was being so immersed in it. But I like presenting it in a different way. My approach is always pairing the high and the low and dialling things up, whether that’s jewellery, layering or infusing the streetwear of the 70s and telling those stories.

Are there any stories you’ve tried to tell through your work?

It’s about building character. I did a shoot with Vogue Italia with new male models at the time, and to style it I used images of my dad and his friends when they went out in the 70s as my inspiration. It was like telling that story in a modern way. Shooting those boys in the Italian gardens had a real regality to it. A lot of the time when I’m shooting Black guys it’s this strong, beautiful but soft narrative that I love to portray. I’ve got two older brothers and it’s showing and celebrating men in that way, having seen them grow up.

Name some fashion disciplines you learned on the job.

You have a lot to consider: seasons, trends and schedules in relation to fashion weeks. This is where studying costume design helps you to understand the reason behind certain collections, references, tailoring and silhouettes. Because I do styling within music, there’s a lot of elements like rollout, press and marketing [that have an influence]. It’s not just a shoot and that’s it.

How would you unpack your stylistic reference points?

I’ve been influenced by archive and vintage fashion. For years, I’ve been collecting my own vintage pieces because I don’t always feel like the quality comes from a label. I love charity shopping. With vintage fashion, it always has an appeal, and it always comes back. Even Y2K and the 70s, I can see those [on the street] now. Even down to Mowalola’s spring 2024 show, there was a punky element done in a subtle way. It was a great show.

Are there any other brands that lean into that vintage aesthetic?

Martine Rose is a designer who’s constantly eye-opening – she makes vintage feel like a moment. But she makes it newer, fresher – into a cleaner narrative. That’s what resonates with me, like, ‘Wow, who would’ve thought of that?’ It feels familiar, giving an old piece new life. I’m always applying that mindset to my work. I was born in 1995, so I wasn’t able to live through the jungle rave scene, but I can see how that boldness and attitude of wearing what you want has translated. You even see it in PinkPantheress and how she’s utilised [aesthetics] from that moment.

London has become such an important city for streetwear. What is it about London that inspires innovation?

It’s a meeting point for so many things – so many people come here from around the globe. I personally think London is the best city in the world. We just have access to so much. You can walk down Soho and eat something from every corner of the world. In fashion, we’re championing so many pioneers from, say, UCL, and it’s super exciting to see what the outcome is going to be from this continued support.

Tell me about where you grew up and how that set up your creativity.

I grew up in Kensal Rise, in north-west London, a stone’s throw from Carnival, so I’d be there every year. At jungle raves, it was the loud colours in a completely different context. I just got fascinated with the two-pieces and prints people would be wearing. The Moschinos, Versaces, Icebergs. They did it proper. And the skatepark was the first place where, at 14, I felt free and like I could express myself without judgement.

How have your passions outside of fashion impacted how you style clients?

Getting into jungle music. Seeing my friends who graffiti and what they would wear in 2016: technical clothing like Arc’teryx, back when I didn’t know what that was. That led me to outerwear and using practical layering as a stylistic choice. It allows the job to be so much fun and for you to express yourself in different ways. Even looking at mandem on the block, whatever they wore, they’d dress so greazy, but I loved it. I’ve always found that that’s an important part of our culture. Basically, there are a million ways you can wear a GORE-TEX jacket, but the mandem on the estates would probably wear it better than most.

With all you’ve done across music and editorial styling, what’s your relationship with fashion in 2023?

This year, my styling is starting to take a more mature turn, while still catering to the youth. I’m starting to be hyper-aware of fashion houses and the meanings and resonance of collections – diving deep rather than scratching the surface. Before, I wouldn’t really consider myself a stylist – and I mean that – but this year I’m starting to feel more like I belong.

How has Black British culture helped frame what you see as street style?

I think Black culture is such a crazy thing; it marries carefreeness with deep self-respect. It’s like a melting pot, bathing everything it touches in a positive light. On the street style sides of things, you can see it in Grace Wales Bonner – her collections are so, so cold. There’s the tailoring and Caribbean infusion, and it’s done so effortlessly. The collab with Adidas has the whole of the UK wearing her Sambas. A good proportion of people might not even know why the Samba was used, or of her designs, but it still breeds that carefree, fun aesthetic. Then look at Clint with Corteiz. He’s come up with a guerilla marketing strategy, not because he’s been in an office, but because that’s him as a strong Black man. There are so many examples.